I. In the dust and the dirtof the orchard floor, there wasa beautiful red beetle — and it did not move. Amid a little world’s scatterand frenzy, here was something — a…
Prose, Poetry, and Art since 1956
I. In the dust and the dirtof the orchard floor, there wasa beautiful red beetle — and it did not move. Amid a little world’s scatterand frenzy, here was something — a…